


Executive Decisions

by butterflychansan



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Is it fluff?, M/M, One Shot, executive AU, is it porn?, powerful BAMFs in charge of the universe who are actually dumb au, the world may never know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-02
Updated: 2014-03-02
Packaged: 2018-01-14 06:47:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1256791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterflychansan/pseuds/butterflychansan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You run a global corporation with that kind of willpower?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Executive Decisions

Connie had been an intern at Bodt Industries for all of three weeks. It was fine, it was a lot of work, but it was even fun, when he wasn’t drowning in paperwork and on a first name basis with the barista at the Starbucks across the street from the BI’s skyscraping office building. But, you know, maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing, she was so pretty and her name was Sasha--

“So help me god if you’re thinking about dumb shit,” Levi said over his shoulder as they made rapid pace down the corridor. “Focus on the meeting, kid.”

Con hurried to keep up and not lose any of the manila folders stacked in his arms. Right, he thought quickly, the meeting, the meeting, the meeting.

Even with how quick they moved, Levi still managed to look bored. He talked as they walked from the elevators through the cubicles and offices on the top floor. Connie had never been up here before, but then again, this was where the executives worked. 

“No room for fucking around,” Levi told him. “These meetings are critical. Billions of dollars ride on the next forty minutes, and if you want to be there for the next meeting, you’re gonna keep your mouth shut and pay attention.”

Connie tried to keep the awe out of his voice. “How often are they?”

“Once a month. Maybe twice. It’s so hard to get them in the same room.”

“Them?”

“Mr. Bodt and that absolute twat,” Levi said with distaste, “Jean Kirschtein.”

Connie’s voice rose with excitement. “Jean Kirschtein? Holy shit, that guy is so badass! He was CEO of his own million dollar company while he was still in grad school-- he was on the cover of Newsweek the other day, oh my god, he’s like Tony Stark, holy shit--”

Levi stopped dead in his tracks and swung around to look at the intern, his grey eyes narrowing. Only when Connie had gulped and fallen silent mid-rant out of fear did Levi continue to walk, straightening his tie.

“Bodt was running BI by the time he was twenty,” he said, staunchly defending the CEO of the company he had dedicated his last ten years to. “What were you doing when you were twenty?”

Connie thought about it. “I don’t think you want to know.”

“Don’t particularly care, either. You have the reports from Malaysia?”

Connie shuffled through the folders in his arms. “Uh-- yes. And from Japan.”  
“Good, we’re going to need it.” And without another word, Levi pushed open the heavy door of the boardroom at the end of the hall. Connie tried to keep his head down and not stare at all the people in the room -- top managers and executives of branches of BI that he had only ever seen in group photos and the shining print of magazines. Erwin Smith, the CFO, sat at the right hand of one end of the table, talking easily with one of the accountants. Connie stifled a laugh when he realized that all the rumors about him wearing shitty Texas ties instead of normal ones were true.

Levi turned around, his glare menacing and annoyed at the same time. 

“Remember,” he warned, his voice low. “Shut up and pay attention.”

Connie did as he was told, and took a seat somewhere in the middle of the long, wide table beside his boss. He was still scrambling to get his notepad and a pen that actually worked when the general chatter of the room slowly died down, and the door at the end of the boardroom opened -- not the one that led from the hallway, but the one that connected directly to the CEO’s office.

“Good morning everyone,” the CEO said, his smile warm and his sleek dark suit worth more than Connie’s apartment. And two years’ worth of rent.

“Morning, Marco,” said Erwin. “You see the numbers from Italy yet?”

“I didn’t know they’d come in,” Marco Bodt said as he slid into his seat at the end of the table, gracefully unbuttoning the one button on his suit jacket as he sat so it opened exactly how it should, like he’d been born wearing Prada. His stark white collared shirt was pressed immaculately and unwrinkled, his deep red tie the perfect complimenting tone for the warmth of his skin. Even his hair left natural and flopping came off as intentional, professional, charming and so goddamned handsome. Marco sat back in his chair and ran a hand through that thick dark hair, comfortable at the head of the table in front of all these people in a way that would make other people sweat.

Sweat because he made it look so easy to be in charge and still have a sense of humor.

Sweat because Marco talked so calmly about business, like he was discussing the weather. Billions and billions of dollars worth of weather.

Sweat because goddamn, he was just so sexy.

Marco was magnetic, and everyone sitting on either side of the table had turned to him, was listening to him talk, shuffling their paperwork a little quieter. The high-backed chair at the other end of the table was curiously empty, and Connie wondered--

The boardroom door swung open from the hallway, and the atmosphere of the room changed immediately.

Jean Kirschtein moved the way you expect a rockstar CEO to move. He didn’t bring an entourage like Connie expected though, though; he came by himself, totally unfazed by the entrance he made when he dropped unceremoniously in the chair at the end of the table, shrugging his suit jacket off and tossing it over the back of the seat like he lived here. Like it was his chair.

“Mind if I?” Jean asked as he started loosening the tie around his neck. He looked Marco dead in the eye at the other end of the table, his gaze unwavering and steady and his smirk fucking delicious. He didn’t bother to acknowledge anyone else.

Marco just raised one eyebrow in response. His smile was gone.

Jean yanked the tie off his neck and tossed it with the jacket, then promptly started rolling the sleeves of his expensive collared shirt up to his elbows. He didn’t give a shit that the material would crumple and probably stay like that. He was Jean Kirschtein for fuck’s sake.

“Make yourself at home,” Levi said, the hatred in his voice undisguised.

Jean smiled at him, then went back to ignoring him. “What do you want to start with today, Bodt?”

“Italy,” Marco said calmly. The look on his face was so strange, he looked...

Certain. Challenging, but steady at the same time. Hungry.

No wonder these meetings only happened once or twice a month, the two rival CEOs could barely exist on opposite side of the table. They looked like they were going to eat each other, and Connie couldn’t tell if that was bad or good. 

“Italy,” Jean repeated slowly, his fingers at his neck, working the top button of his shirt open.

A woman with thick glasses sitting across the table from Levi and Connie handed the paperwork in question to Marco, then a copy to Jean. Mr. Kirschtein studied the numbers for all of a second before he let it flop on the table in front of him.

“Japan?” he asked, smirking.

“Twelve percent,” replied Marco, that hungry, certain gaze unbroken.

“Oh please,” said Jean. “Fifteen.”

“With interest from potential buyers?”

Jean’s eyes narrowed. “Like who?”

“Am I going to tell you that?” The corner of Marco’s lips twitched.

“Fuck you,” Jean said. “Fuck you, fuck your potential buyers, and fuck your Prada suit.”

Marco’s smile was his reply.

It was a dance. It was a boxing match. It was sex. It was a fist fight in the parking lot. All the execs and interns on either side of the table could do was violently take notes and watch with widened eyes as the two CEOs went back and forth. They were nothing but voyeurs, watching the two most powerful men in the room toeing the line, arguing without raising their voices, generally scaring the shit out of everyone with how easily they tossed huge amounts of money around.

It felt too hot in that room, suddenly. Everyone was pulling at their collars, feeling the intensity hang over their heads like late summer humidity. But the air conditioning was going full blast, and Marco looked perfectly comfortable still in his suit jacket. 

It was just the heat between the two of them.

Forty minutes. By the end of it, half a sheet of paper had been swapped between Connie and Armin, the intern sitting next to him; they’d been placing bets on who was going to walk out of here with a black eye. Connie had $40 on Marco, just because the angrier Jean got, the wider Marco’s smile became.

Forty minutes later, and the paperwork had been sorted through. All the arrangements between Bodt Industries and Kirschtein Continental Corps had been made, and meetings put together for the next few weeks in Madrid and Istanbul with the European branches of both companies. 

And the CEOs were still looking at each other with that steady, certain hunger.

Connie couldn’t tell if it was hatred, maybe with a little bit of annoyance, or... friendship?

They knew each other so well. When Jean slammed his palm down flat on the dark mahogany table, he leaned forward as he spoke, his voice rising; and maybe, just a fraction, Marco leaned forward in his chair, too. When Marco bit his lip -- absentmindedly, or intentional? -- Jean licked his lips, faltering just a second before he launched into the discussion about mergers with smaller companies in east Asia. 

“Does anyone want to add anything?” Marco said calmly, addressing the rest of the room for the first time. He looked at Erwin, but Erwin shrugged; the CEOs knew the financial situations as well as he did, and the discussion he’d intended to bring up had flown back and forth between them like a hail of bullets. 

When nobody else said anything, Marco neatly folded the manila folders spread before him closed and gathered them together in his hands. He ran a hand through his hair again and said lightly, “I think we’re all set here, then. Thanks for the good work, everybody.”

Connie wasn’t sure what the hell work he was talking about, but the execs on either side of the table had stood up and started gathering their things together. Conversation broke out in low voices between them, discussing the information that had passed so quick through the meeting. Levi didn’t even bother to motion to Connie, just made his way down the length of the table and knew when Con followed behind him, still gathering all of his paperwork. They were the last two out the door, and it was only when Connie realized -- 

Neither of the CEOs had gotten out of their chairs, or even moved, or even broken eye contact. 

“Close the door on your way out,” Jean said to Connie without turning around.

The door shut with a click, and then the men were alone, staring at each other from opposite ends of the long table.

They both waited until the crowd of employees outside had dissipated, and the hallway outside the boardroom was quiet once again. 

That certain smile was still tugging at Marco’s mouth. “‘Fuck you,” he repeated slowly, “‘fuck your potential buyers, and fuck your Prada suit.’”

Jean leaned back in his chair, tugging at the collar of his shirt again. “I was hoping you’d say something like ‘gladly.’”

“You know I don’t mix business with pleasure,” replied Marco. “Come here.”

Jean made his way slowly around the table, too slow, too swaggering, luxuriating too much in the way Marco’s eyes followed him as he kicked his shoes off and worked another button loose on his shirt.

Jean leaned back against the table in front of Marco, standing right between his legs. He smiled as he loosened another few buttons, revealing the stark white t-shirt underneath that fit tight across his chest.

“You’re so careless about your suits,” Marco said softly, not taking his eyes off Jean’s hands. “Anna is gonna have a stroke when she sees those sleeves.”

“Anna?” Jean asked, glancing up at him.

Marco smiled slightly. “Our housekeeper, honey. Our housekeeper for the last three years. You know, the lady standing in our kitchen this morning, yelling at you about spilling champagne on the sheets?”

“I like to block that woman out,” Jean said with gritted teeth. “She judges how much Netflix I watch.”

“Baby, you own Netflix,” Marco said. “You’re supposed to keep tabs on your companies, right? Even if it is watching Toddlers & Tiaras until three in the morning.”

Jean frowned, narrowing his eyes as he leaned over Marco, their faces inches apart.

Marco bit his lip and tried not to laugh. 

Jean softened, shaking his head, and began to loosen Marco’s crisply tied tie, undoing the knot and letting it hang around his neck. 

Marco reached up and caught Jean’s fingers in his, lifting them to his lips to kiss them. “I’ve got a meeting in twenty minutes.”

“I can work with that,” Jean murmured, his other hand working the buttons on Marco’s shirt. Without further warning, he gripped the fabric and ripped Marco’s collared shirt open along the fastens. There was a skitter of dull, muffled sound as the buttons sprang from the delicate thread and hit the carpet at their feet.

“Anna can yell at you too now,” Jean murmured when he leaned down further and pressed his mouth to the middle of Marco’s sternum.

Marco’s hands slipped across Jean’s torso, pressing into his back, pulling him closer. He’d had that expression of steady certainty on this whole time, and now he was getting exactly what he knew he would. 

Marco’s breath caught in his throat when Jean slid into his lap, lips trailing across his neck.

“I have another shirt in my office,” he managed to say, smirking playfully.

Jean smiled into his into his shoulder. “Watch me rip that one off you, too.”

 

*

 

Connie kept glancing at the closed door of the boardroom from his cubicle. It had been an hour, and still no sign of either one of the CEOs.

Damn it. He’d really wanted to get Mr. Kirschtein’s autograph, or at least talk to him.

“I wonder what the hell they’re doing in there,” he said aloud.

Levi didn’t even bother to glance up from his desk. He just laughed to himself. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to.”

Suddenly, Connie’s eyes widened.

“Oh,” he said. “OH. OH SHIT.”

**Author's Note:**

> don't look at me i needed this after the last FMN update
> 
> <3


End file.
